


More Than Anyone Bargained For

by Big_Gay_Swamp_Witch



Series: We Are Your Legacy [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Custody Arrangements, Fighting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern AU, Parents AU, SHES THE BEST, its gay, its soft lams thats all it is, oh and frances is there, post college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25439179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_Gay_Swamp_Witch/pseuds/Big_Gay_Swamp_Witch
Summary: Martha decides she can't be a co-parent anymore. John and Alex figure it out.Or, alternatively; they fight, make up, and Frances is there. She's adorable and they're great dads.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Frances Laurens & John Laurens, John Laurens/Martha Manning (past)
Series: We Are Your Legacy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848139
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	1. Close The Door On Your Way Out.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! No beta reader, so feel free to notify me of any mistakes or inconsistencies. It's also my first time posting on here, so please be kind :)
> 
> (CW, swearing!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff goes down, man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! No beta reader, and its my first time posting on here, so be gentle. But do give feedback!

Frances Eleanor Laurens had been born a mere month before her father had graduated college. Nine months before that, her parents had made a few messy mistakes. Needless to say, neither of them expected operation ‘be-each-other’s-beards-until-we-graduate’ to result in a child-  
But vodka is a hell of a homewrecker.  
They agreed to remain in contact, to both be a part of the girl’s life.  
Which, subsequently, is how a new father and a broke journalist met in the middle of a grocery store. And of course, after that, there was falling in love, and confessions, and moving in- and even a proposal.  
Which is how they got here, arguing in front of a pot of spaghetti.

“She’s a child!”

They’d already been at this for almost an hour. Things weren’t improving. 

“I understand that she’s a child, John.” Alex turned to face him and crossed his arms, gaze hardening. “I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.”  
John rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. _**“You’re** acting like a child,”_ he wanted to say. This conversation could have been so much easier, if Alexander would just stop to listen to him. Listen, for five minutes, maybe ten, instead of biting back every two seconds. 

Alex was always raring for a fight, itching to debate anything that anyone said. God forbid he found out that he agreed with the other person. John had seen the end of that furious dance, and he had seen the lengths his fiance would go to to be right.  
Leave it to Alexander Hamilton, he supposed. 

“John- are you listening?”  
John’s head snapped up, his thoughts flitting away.  
“No, sorry, I was waiting for my turn,” He drawled, a Southern twinge mingling with the exasperation in his voice.  
Alex didn’t seem to like that, but bit his tongue and turned back to the pot on the stove.  
“What do you suggest we do, then, Mr. Laurens?”  
John scoffed. “Formal, now, are we?” He was getting exhausted, and could feel the tension rising in the room. If he tried to diffuse it, he would lose. John Laurens didn’t give easily to losing.

“Do they let you argue like this in court? You have more distractions up your sleeve than actual points.” Alex didn’t turn away from the pasta he was stirring. The edge in his voice was enough to clue John into how thin his patience was growing. “You’re the lawyer. Defend your case to me so I can go to bed.”  
“You’re not going to eat?” Somehow, that detail was what snagged on John’s brain, but it didn’t help the situation in the slightest.  
“I don’t want to stand here all night, John. Spit it out.” Alexander turned back to him, his voice stiff and louder than before.  
John hadn’t wanted that to happen.

He only sighed, gauging the best way to calm the storm that was forming in their kitchen.  
“I assume you don’t want to go to court?”  
“I thought you said you didn’t want to see me in a courtroom again.”  
“And I thought _you_ said you wanted to get to the point, not bicker like toddlers,” John snapped, steeling his gaze right into Alex’s own. “We either take her, full custody, or she goes to foster care. Martha’s not budging. You know how bad the system is- Alex- why are you fighting me on this? Is being right the only thing that matters to you now?”  
John knew he’d hit a nerve as soon as the words left his mouth. His own anger had dissolved into hurt before he’d even noticed. He watched a stunned sort of look take over Alexander’s eyes, his lips parting slightly as the rebuttal he’d been preparing trickled away. It hurt to look at. However, the stony, furious curtain that fell over him was even worse.

“I do, John, you’re right. But I also know what it’s like to have a parent just walk out of your life. All you have left of them is birthday cards and checks. Their voice sounds different every time you hear it and they never call for more than five minutes. You try to remember what they were like as often as you can but there are more gaps in the memories each time. They leave a hole in your entire personality, they leave you wondering and searching. Do you want that to happen to our daughter? Are you just going to let Martha abandon Frances? Are you just going to back down?”

The words hung in the air and wrapped around John’s throat. _‘Our daughter’. ‘Abandon’._ They made him dizzy.  
He wasn’t fighting anymore, he was reaching. He was desperate and hurting and he wasn’t going to cry right now, because they had to figure this out. For Frances’ sake. He took a ragged breath and tried to focus on the wind whistling through the shutters. The moonlight peeking through the window.

_Rewind._

It had seemed like a normal phone call at first. Martha asked about Frances, made sure she was content and eating well. Then the conversation steered a bit toward John’s job, and still, it seemed all normal. Customary, even. Talk of John’s law firm and Alex’s writing, their plans for a wedding.  
Until her voice started to shake. Morphing into hollow sobs and gasps, her words eventually formed around a sentence. 

_“Jack, I can’t be a mother anymore.”_

John had wanted to yell at her. Scream, that being a parent wasn’t something that you could just give up. He wanted to plead, beg her to take it back. To stay in New York. He wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard and go back to talking about Frances’ preferred brand of graham crackers.  
Mostly, he’d wanted to go home. 

When he did, Alexander noticed something wrong immediately.  
He’d eased John into the kitchen, held his hands gently, made soft conversation about dinner. For once, he hadn’t pressed.  
And then John told him what Martha had said. At first, Alex was silent. That was the first bad sign.

He’d asked questions then, and turned away from John. The room grew colder as the sun went down, but neither of them reached for the thermostat. 

It grew louder, too.

He steeled himself and prepared to speak up again.  
“Martha’s tired of this back and forth, Alex. She wants to move back to London. She wants to start over. I can’t change her mind. And I’m not going to let you try and change her mind either. I’m as angry at her as you are-” He ran a hand through his curls and his voice dropped just above a whisper. “-she thinks Frances is a mistake.” His voice trembled as the last word tumbled past his lips, and closed his eyes. She wasn’t a mistake. His little ball of dark curls and curiosity, she was a gift. She brought him smiles everyday, she tugged Alex away from his work, she was _so goddamn smart._

Silence hung in the air. Things seemed to slow down, reduced to the quiet thrumming of both of their thoughts. John wanted to stop fighting. He wanted to go back to three hours ago, when he got home from work, kissed his fiance, put his daughter to bed. 

“I would’ve thought you’d agree with her.”

John’s breath caught. His brain stuttered for a moment, trying to catch up. 

He didn’t even get the chance to look up. To react. To tell Alexander how wrong he was and how awful an accusation that was and ask why he would say that-

His attention was drawn elsewhere.

A disheveled three year old had padded up to the doorway, her face distraught and pajamas ruffled.  
“Papa?”  
John stepped forward silently, though it felt like moving through molasses. He tried to ignore the fact that Frances had called out for Alexander and not him. The fact that Martha was still waiting on their decision. 

He picked her up and cradled the back of her head as he walked out of the kitchen.

_Walk away, John. Go before you make things worse._

***

Alexander had caught John’s eye one last time before he was out of sight. He saw Frances peek up at him over John’s shoulder, clenching her hand in a tired wave. 

He stood there. Frozen, scrambling to find purchase. Those words shouldn’t have come out. They shouldn’t have even come to his mind-  
_Fuck._  
You could blame it on his predisposed mindset to win. To hit his opponents where it hurt and leave no survivors.  
You could, and he certainly wanted to.

***

Alex didn’t leave the kitchen for another hour. At first he was waiting, waiting for John to come back. Then he realized it wasn’t going to happen, and he still stayed.  
Because he was a royal fuck-up. Because he’d spoken too quickly, fired back without even thinking. Because he didn’t deserve Frances, he didn’t deserve John, and he felt like melting into the kitchen floor. Because he’d treated John like a political opponent, and not the man he loved. 

He wasn’t ever really angry when arguing with John. Just stupid.

An hour passed, and Alexander quietly ventured down the hall to Frances’ room. He waited outside it for a minute or two, breathing as quietly as he could and wordlessly pacing.  
The fight was over now, but every word replayed in his mind. He was stupid, what he’d said was stupid- and he should’ve just shut up like John wanted him to. 

Eventually, he gathered his resolve and walked into the bedroom. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but they were soon drawn to the tiny light-up stars glowing from the ceiling. 

They were a gift from Angelica, when John and Alex first bought the house. She’d handed them over with a resigned sort of smile, shifting little Frances on her hip.  
“Be careful, Alexander. This is a home now,” she brushed a curl from her goddaughter’s face. “You break this, and you’ll hate yourself.”  
She hadn’t looked at him while she said it, mauve colored nails resting on Frances’ cheek. 

That was a while ago, of course, and the stars were more faded now.

Once he looked away, he noticed John was lying on the floor next to Frances’ bed. He panicked for a second, before realizing that he was asleep. His eyelashes cast soft shadows down on his cheeks.  
He was beautiful. And looking at Frances, tangled up in her sheets, Alex saw the resemblance more than ever.  
She had the same round, freckled cheeks and dark satin curls. Even though they were closed, he could picture the brilliant hazel eyes that lit up with glee so often. She was such a happy child, smiling at every chance she got.  
He would give anything to see her smile right now. 

Alex chose to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning to gently brush his fingers through John’s hair.  
_“I’m so sorry, my love. You’re right.”_ He whispered, more for himself than anything. It was easier to admit he was wrong once he had practiced it.  
His eyes scanned the room once more, his conscience mocking him. 

_Look what you did. You always do this to him._

Alexander sighed and slowly stood, closing the door silently behind him as he left. 

John wasn’t like Alex’s father. He’d never let a child lose their parent-if he could help it- and Alex had made his first stupid mistake even thinking that. 

The spaghetti was left uneaten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, yikes. They both done messed up.


	2. Love, I'm So Sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make up. It's cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, loves. And make sure to leave comments! Gimme the feedback, good and bad.

John woke up sore. And exhausted, and uneasy, but at least he swore to himself never to fall asleep on the ground again. He rose up on his elbows, maneuvering into a sitting position against the wall. Frances was still asleep, which John appreciated, up until realizing that it was Monday.  
Monday meant the Schuylers coming to pick up Frances for the day.  
The time on John’s phone read 10:25, still an hour and a half before the girls were here, so he quietly stood and slipped out of the room. It almost felt normal, for a moment, falling into the rhythm of a lazy morning. Starting the coffee pot, opening the curtains, watering the succulents on the window.  
But then he turned to clean last night’s dishes from the sink, and realized just how _wrong_ everything was.  
There were no dishes in the sink. Neither of them had eaten last night. The candle wicks on the coffee table were just as crisp as they’d been two nights ago.  
And it was silent in the house. No distant clacking of a keyboard. No shuffling of papers followed by the solid, rhythmic steps of pacing.  
And no hands around his waist from behind. No sleepy morning warmth and no gentle kisses on the neck.

The contentment was violently shattered.  
John set his empty mug down and silently shuffled out of the kitchen. He turned to go to the bedroom, worry setting heavily in his veins, but stopped short.

Alexander was on the couch. His face was sculpted with frustration, even in his sleep. His hair was splayed out, body curled in a way that looked uncomfortable. 

This hadn’t happened in a while. They’d both learned to resolve things, maybe messily, maybe loudly, maybe after hours of arguing, but they never went to bed angry at each other. But now his fiance was on the couch, and his back ached, and.

Alex made a small, disgruntled noise, and John darted away before being seen. He listened from the other side of the wall as Alex stretched and sighed, likely opening his phone.  
And John missed him. He missed his scruffy waking up voice and his tired, dark eyes.

He was in the next room, and he was probably still angry, but John missed him.  
He’d forgotten how lost it felt, unable to talk to the man he loved. 

Alexander had received a text from Lafayette in the night, which he begrudgingly opened as his eyes adjusted. 

_  
baguette: why are you awake, petit? your light is on_

Alex sighed. The dismay of having friends that lived in the apartment across the street. 

_  
sandwich: had a fight._

A response came in almost immediately.

_  
baguette: ah, ça arrive. you’re alright, no?_

_sandwich: not very_

_baguette: :((_

_baguette: you did not kiss and make up?_

_sandwich: it’s worse than usual this time_

Alexander put the phone away before waiting for a response, ignoring the dings that went off. He turned to stand and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw John walk past. 

“Schuylers will be here soon. You should help Frances get ready. Oatmeal’s on the counter.”

That was all he said.

And then he was gone, disappeared into their bedroom. He’d avoided even looking at Alexander. 

Alex mumbled a small “yeah” before going breathing out and sauntering to Frances’ room.

***

“Hey there, Miss Roosevelt.” Alexander smiled sadly, Frances beaming up at him and climbing over into his lap.  
Alex had a thing for nicknames, but Frances was a tough one. He’d had to improvise.

_“Her middle name is Eleanor, John, and she’s an independent little lady. It does too make sense, John- shut up-”_

He was brought out of his reverie by Frances tapping her fingers on his chest.  
“Is aunties coming soon?” She looked up at him with curious eyes, and he rubbed her back a bit. “Yeah, honey, they will. You wanna get dressed for today?”  
She nodded and hopped off his lap, skipping across the room to her dresser. Her curls bounced, and Alex’s chest seized with a pang of familiarity.

“I love you, Princess,” Alex croaked, his voice small. 

Frances twirled around with a grin, clutching a pair of shorts. 

“I love you, Papa.”

***

Alexander stared into the jug of orange juice, his eyes unfocused and mind floating off somewhere else. It wasn’t the first time he’d told Frances he loved her, of course it wasn’t.  
But it felt like he’d let himself forget the fact that he did, for a moment. He’d launched into this spiel in an effort to shove aside his own personal trauma- and hadn’t even actually been considering what it’d be like for her.

“Alexander, the girls are here.” John’s voice traveled softly to his ears, drawing his eyes to John’s face. He nodded, his body relaxing as John scanned him. 

He didn’t seem angry, at least.

There was sharp knocking at the front door, and the Schuylers swiftly let themselves in.  
“Alright losers, where’s my favorite niece?” Peggy set down her purse, and planted her hands on her hips. Eliza tutted at her sister, but smiled warmly at John and Alex. John gave a short nod and Alex a belated hum.  
“She’s your only niece, Margarita.” Angelica came in last, chuckling softly.

Frances tumbled in from the hallway, holding onto the edges of her skirt as she twirled with a grin. Eliza reached forward, picking her up and spinning her around. She offered another smile to John and Alex, but something odd was laced in her eyes. One eyebrow raised, she put Frances on her hip.  
“You guys have a rough night..?” 

Alexander gave her a tiny head shake. John looked like he was about to speak, but cast his eyes to the floor. 

The older two sisters shared a look.

“Well I guess we should be getting to the zoo, then? Penguins to see, you know.” Peggy spun her keys around her finger and slung her arm around her sister.

There were the usual goodbyes and hugs, and Frances’ forehead kisses from both her dads.  
As well as some not-so-usual looks of suspicion from the sisters. 

When the door closed, Alex turned and looked straight into John’s eyes. He didn’t know how to start. He didn’t really even want to open his mouth, in all honesty. 

He didn’t know how to fix this, and- for once, Alexander Hamilton was at a loss for words. 

John sighed, and searched Alex’s eyes for a long time. 

He imagined what it’d be like, to have Frances always. To explain to her why Mommy won’t be coming back to get her. To collect her things from Martha’s apartment and try to fit them into Frances’ room here. To sift through all the complications.  
But then, he imagined Alex reading her to sleep, kissing her softly on the forehead. He imagined her starting preschool, wearing a soft dress at her dads’ wedding. He imagined having more kids with Alexander, he imagined getting a real home, somewhere farther from the city. 

And he reached out to press his thumb to the frustrated crease in Alex’s brow, smoothing it out gently.  
Alex breathed out a heavy, relieved sigh, and took that as a peace offering. He leaned into John’s chest, his shoulders relaxing as John’s hand slipped into his hair. 

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch, Lexi.”  
Alex laced his fingers together against John’s back.  
“Couldn’t sleep in the bed. Too big without you.” Alex mumbled, closing his eyes and pressing his face to John’s neck. “ ‘M so sorry.” 

“I know, baby. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

Alex groaned softly and pressed his knuckles to John’s back. “What I said was worse,” He whined.  
“Doesn’t count, you didn’t mean it.” John gently stroked his hair again, met with silence for a few moments.  
Until he looked up at him, dark eyes apologetic and distraught. “I really didn’t, you know.”

“I know.”

Alex sighed and resolved to laying his head on John’s shoulder. “She doesn’t need a mother. She doesn’t need Martha, she’ll have you, and the Schuylers, and Laf and Mulligan.”

John’s heart swelled, bit he shook his head lightly with a tiny smile.  
“You too, Alexander, you’re her dad.”

Alex beamed and leaned his head up to kiss John’s jaw. “We’re great dads, aren’t we?”  
John laughed and kissed Alexander properly on the lips. “Are we? Our daughter had apple juice and a KitKat for dinner last night.”

“Hey, listen-”  
John grinned and raised his eyebrow, curious to see where Alexander went with this.  
His fiance only pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, a look which John found very adorable, and had to kiss off his face.

Alex let out a sigh against John’s chin, and opened his mouth again. “I’m-”  
John kissed him again, exasperated. “Shut up, Alexander, say you’re sorry again and I’ll make you sleep on the couch for the next week.”  
Alex scoffed, beginning to ramble about the new people he’d have to meet at work this week. 

John brushed dark hair from his blazing eyes as he talked, smiling to himself. 

This was the man he was going to build a home with. The bright eyes and the energy and the confidence.

He’d be keeping this one around for a while. 

Forever, if he tried hard enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love them. We stan them.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gimme feedback!<3333

Alexander fell back onto the bench, sighing with exhaustion and leaning his head on John’s shoulder.   
“Four year olds are _tiring._ ”  
John laughed at him, slinging an arm around his waist. “Children are like that, darling.”

Alex only pouted and watched as Hercules pushed said child on the swings. Lafayette leaned against the post and spouted useless French babble, which at least seemed to entertain Frances. 

“Martha called.”  
Alex looked up at John, his eyes widening. She couldn’t be taking back her decision now. She’d moved to London already- she had a girlfriend. She’d said goodbye to Frances over the phone and had been gone the next day. The title of mother didn’t belong to her anymore.  
This exactly what she’d _wanted._

She’d never really been fit for it, Alexander supposed. John had told him all about her. In college, she’d been the girl everyone liked. The bright, doe eyed southern belle, who cried during military homecoming videos and held bake sales.   
Needless to say, John had been surprised when she approached him.  
It wasn’t an awful plan, to give them some credit. They both needed someone to take home for the holidays, they were both painfully closeted, it wasn’t supposed to be that deep. A few months of fake dating, and then graduation.   
But then, one night, John’s brother went to juvy. Martha’s mom was put in the hospital seventeen hours later.   
And there just happened to be a lot of alcohol in the vicinity.   
After college, Martha got an apartment, a job at a cafe, things were civil between them.  
But she grew thinner. Cut all her hair off when she couldn’t bother to care for it anymore. She was jittery- anxious, frazzled at the ends. 

No, she wasn’t mother material at all. 

John reached over and took Alex’s hand, looking him softly in the eyes.   
He’s always told him that he thinks out loud.  
“Nothing big, I promise,” He rubbed his thumb over Alex’s knuckles, coaxing a soft sigh of relief out of him.   
“She just wanted help getting Frances’ name off her insurance.” John looked up at their daughter, who was currently giggling as she was launched down the slide by Lafayette. Alex saw the dull pain in his eyes, and leaned over to kiss his shoulder. 

“She hasn’t asked about her lately?”

“No. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or sad.”

“Hm. You know she’s like, the luckiest girl in the world, right?”

John chuckled and glanced back at Alexander.  
“I think we’re pretty biased.”  
Alex smiled and kissed John softly. “How dare you say such a thing, dear husband. I have not an inkling what you mean.”

John pressed his forehead to Alex’s as Frances ran a lap around the park.  
“She is pretty lucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know if you want a sequel! Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed your stay.


End file.
